


Can we start again?

by throwmetomorrow



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Community: mcfassy, F/M, Heartbreak, M/M, More angst, Raising the Dead, Sacrifice, baby Lehnsherr, mutant and proud, necromancer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4271229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throwmetomorrow/pseuds/throwmetomorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friends turned enemies by day, lovers by night, Charles and Erik had been keeping their secret relationship for a few years when Erik killed Charles with the news: Raven was pregnant with Erik's child and they were going to raise a family. Shocked and heartbroken, Charles didn't exactly welcome the news, which left Erik feeling misunderstood and resentful. On her part, Raven took Charles' heartbreak and jealousy as a 'you don't deserve to be happy with my man' kind of personal attack. Consequently, Charles parted his way with the couple in an atmosphere of bitter hostility.<br/>Fast forward to a few months later. When a tragedy occurs, there is nothing that Charles could say or do to make things any better. He feels like he has lost both Erik and Raven forever, both to their mourning and to their incessant grudge towards him. It's too late now to make amends, but Charles has made his decision. He will stop at nothing to make things right, and for that he is willing to pay any price. Meaning: absolutely any price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can we start again?

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in a slightly personalized/altered movie-verse. The most important difference from the cannon to be observed in the story is that Charles has not been completely paralyzed. He suffers from chronic pain which often prompts him to use the wheelchair, but he can and does walk by himself if the circumstances require it - hence the crutches he's carrying around in the story.  
> Be warned that it is a terribly depressing storyline, which at times can also get quite disturbing. It also plays with the issues of the triangle relationship between Charles, Erik and Raven, and you might not like the interpretation proposed here - I thought you should be aware of that part before you start to read.  
> Erik's part (the post-funeral one, not the one in Charles' vision) goes to the Master of Sharks.
> 
> Leave comments. Enjoy (if you can).

**  
Hour after hour trickled by as Charles poured all his strength into a Cerebro query. Not surprisingly, by this time around he was very tired. No, _exhausted_ was a better word. To start with, Cerebro certainly was not a device you could go on using for hours. Not even if you were an experienced telepath and possessed remarkable abilities that allowed for the control of your powers as close to perfect as one could get – and Charles definitely was one.

There was nothing but one huge mayhem inside his head, and he was on the verge of falling asleep while seated right there. The latter was no wonder: it was well past three A.M., and it had been weeks since Charles could last afford a good night’s sleep. Those were uneasy times and they didn’t encourage him to sleep well – neither did his conscience, nor his grief. 

The thing was, however, that Charles could not devote any other part of day to his searching. He didn’t want his own neurotic whims to cast any shadow or influence in any way upon the everyday functioning of the school. He didn’t want his personal issues to affect the school kids and other inhabitants of the Xavier property. He also didn’t mean to neglect the numerous duties and commitments he had towards the school’s residents as well as his other friends. 

Then again, deep inside Charles did realize that first of all, what he did not want was to attract attention, and alongside attention, suspicion. Suspicion would make all his plans turn into ashes, it would destroy them before they were even launched. All those who knew what was going on had already accepted his sorrow and despair. They had become familiar with Charles’ tedious, colorless days of mourning over his triple loss. And if there remained anything that Charles was still able to pray for, it was contained in that one single line.

_Let nobody figure out there is anything else to it all._

He kept on searching. He would conduct his searching senselessly, day in day out, for three, four, sometimes five hours, until his mind would almost explode from all the exposure to the Cerebro-transmitted voices. Never before had Charles as much as considered he was even capable of withstanding that much contact with other mutant’s thoughts, stories and pain. Then again, never before had he been as indifferent to them as that.

With any and all strength he still had, Charles did his best to reach that one ultimate goal, which was to find him – or her, whichever the case was. The one whose powers would be of any help to them all.

Yet weeks passed by, and Charles had begun to lose hope. It seemed to him that he had peered into the head of every living mutant on the planet, all to no avail. Absolutely nothing about his quest indicated any chances of success. 

Which was why he couldn’t believe it at first when he had found him.

At second, he was petrified, like someone had put a binding spell on him. Like another telepath had frozen him. 

At third, he started to compulsively make sure if he had really seen and heard what he was thinking he just had. Because maybe after all it was only his exhausted, jaded mind playing tricks on him. 

At fourth, he jumped to his feet. Then he remembered that actually he was unable to do that anymore, and so with a painful hiss he fell back to his wheelchair. 

After a while he somehow reclaimed his composure. Nevertheless, he couldn’t hold still. There was so much to be done. Right now, right away, no putting off.

Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember when he had last felt as excited as that. Chances were it had been on the last day ever that Erik had smiled back at him.

**  
It was a regular apartment in a regular building. It had nothing special about it, nothing dark or hermit-like. Not that it was of any surprise to Charles. People were not their powers, after all. And he actually knew many of their kind to deny their powers by embodying completely opposite concepts with their personality and their life. This guy must have been one of such cases – and frankly speaking, he had some legitimate reasons for that.

The one who opened the door to Charles was an unexpectedly indistinctive middle-aged man. He was rather tall and rather skinny, and he was donning a chaos of grayish locks over his head, neck and temples. He appeared withdrawn and quiet, but the glasses he wore right at the base of his nose could not conceal his piercing, alert gaze.

He seemed surprised to see Charles; yet, before he had the chance to say anything or otherwise react, he could hear Charles’ voice inside his head.

_Sorry to barge on you like that, but I really need you. I mean, I really need your powers. As you can tell, I’m a telepath and I know everything there is to know about you, so please don’t even try to deny anything. Be kind, don’t run and hide. You have to help me. I’m not leaving here until I get all that I came for. Is that clear, Necromancer?_

It was only for a second that the man looked pale and frightened. He had clearly managed to cope with the circumstances before Charles even finished his lines. Well, a guy who could do what that one could had certainly been here and done that, and experienced things much more unbelievable and outrageous than people’s voices suddenly resounding inside his mind.

“Well, that’s a nice name you gave me. Technically it’s not really what I do, but I like how you make me sound so powerful and all.” He chuckled sarcastically, with no further signs of resistance letting Charles walk on his crutches into the apartment.

“I hope you are”, Charles replied curtly. He had no will for courtesies. The time was ticking away.

**  
“Would you please show me how exactly the things you do work. I mean, if that’s possible at all”, was Charles’ suggestion.

Necromancer observed that he hadn’t done that ‘trick’ in a really long time, not since he had been asked to bring back to life a brother in arms during the Korean war decades before. All the while, his abilities had been kept secret, and the involved party had taken that secret to his grave. 

Charles wasn’t bothered by any of these. He hadn’t come all that way for nothing. He had to know at least the basics: what exactly Necromancer was capable of, what he needed for that, and what were the consequences.

Necromancer brought forward two flower pots. One had some wilted sticks in it, while a beautiful, lush gardenia bloomed in the other. Necromancer pressed his hands against both.

In a little while, right before Charles’ eyes, the lifeless sticks would grow and flourish, exactly just as the life was being drained away from the lovely gardenia. Drop by drop and petal by petal, the gardenia would shed its life until it had turned into a dry twig itself. 

Charles had seen a number of most extraordinary things in his life. He had witnessed mutations both amazing and terrifying. He had thought he had already grown indifferent to all the shock, terror and awe that all could be evoked by some of the powers _homo superior_ could possess.

But right now he was genuinely speechless, and it lasted well more than just one moment. His voice had been taken away by fear, then by admiration, and then, finally, by commotion.

The commotion came from the fact that it had occurred to Charles – as in, for the first time he had truly believed it – that this man could save them all. 

**  
“There are a few limitations to it, naturally. Otherwise by now I’d have been indecently rich playing a Jeez the resurrecting savior”, explained Necromancer. He answered patiently to all Charles’ meticulous questions bordering on irritating. “To bring a creature back to life, I need to supply it with an amount of life energy that will be sufficient for that specific creature, you see what I mean? I mean borrowing the energy of an equally developed creature. Which means a weed for a weed, a tree for a tree, a mongrel for a mongrel…” He suspended his voice and he looked Charles straight in the eyes to emphasize how foreboding his point was. “A human for a human.”

“And a mutant for a mutant”, finished Charles. He ignored Necromancer’s questioning gaze. He seemed like he had said that to himself. 

Necromancer scratched his head nervously.

“Just to be sure… It’s going to be you, right?”

Charles gave him a broad smile, one perhaps even a little vain. Still, the no-turning-back quality in Necromancer’s voice had his heart freeze with dread.

“Yes, it’s going to be me.”

Necromancer nodded understandingly – and maybe even with a tint of compassion.

“I realize that no amount of talking can talk any sense into people like you on moments like this, but um… I mean, are you sure? What will your close ones say? How will they make it without you? And what about that kid, anyway? What good will it be if he’s alive when he doesn’t have his dad around?”

Some people can cope with a fatherless life for quite some time and fairly decently, thought Charles. He decided, however, not to dwell on the topic. It wasn’t even relevant to their conversation.

“It’s not my kid”, he replied, amused as if at a really funny misunderstanding. “My so-called close ones can sure manage without me around. I don’t have a family anymore, and the parents of that baby need him much more than anyone in the world needs me. This is the only right thing left for me to do.”

For a few more seconds Necromancer stayed silent, staring at Charles’ face intently, as if he wanted to count all the pores on Charles’ face, or to measure the depth of sleepless bags under Charles’ eyes.

“Look, man, it’s really not like I want to meddle with your private stuff or anything, but you know what? It sounds like one hell of a sick story to me, and like you’re pretty sick yourself, too.” There was clear concern in Necromancer’s voice, even though it was difficult to tell if it was targeted at Charles or rather at Necromancer himself. “Are you sure you don’t want to think it over some more?” 

Charles shrugged his shoulders, and then he smiled. It’s not like Necromancer didn’t seem like a decent man after all, and a decent man was bound to ask such questions under the circumstances.

“I have nothing else to think over. Do you really think I would have put all the effort into finding you if I didn’t have it all worked out?” With his hand, he caressed affectionately a paycheck with a remarkable number of zeros written down. Then he peered back at Necromancer. “If anything, now the time has come for you to think things over. Just remember I’m not in a charity mood and I’m not going to give you all that much of that time, okay? I’d already had my fair share of waiting until I got here.”

Necromancer pulled a confused face, like someone who wanted to say _Don’t you dare thinking I would do something like that for cash_ and, at the same time, _Nothing but cash can make me do something like that_. In a way, that guy was really endearing. 

Some year and a half ago they probably could have become friends. Some year and a half ago, maybe it would even have been Charles who could be of any help to Necromancer instead. 

**  
Accompanied by Necromancer, Charles boarded the first plane back to the US. They stayed at a ‘suburban little residence’ owned by the Xavier family, a place where time and again Charles would escape to for a weekend from the clamor of his students and the noise of his own thoughts.

The two had spent the next few days discussing the details of their plan. As expected, the most troublesome part turned out to be the exhumation. Fortunately, Necromancer assured Charles that there would be no need to defile the tiny body by taking it out of the coffin. Necromancer would do perfectly fine just by touching the coffin from the outside to transfer the life into the body inside, just as he had done with the wilted twigs in a flower pot before. Nevertheless, it didn’t help the fact that they still had to get that coffin, and Necromancer was undoubtedly right to say that getting the coffin was none of his business. And so Charles had to manage that part all on his own. 

Charles found himself sincerely disgusting. There he was at that Jewish graveyard, under the cover of the night, stealing the coffin in which a baby was resting – and, to make the matters worse, it was his sister’s and his best friend’s child. Trying to explain to himself that he was doing it for the higher good and that he was justified for taking this drastic measure was of little consolation to him.

On the other hand, the thought that if it so happened that on this particular evening Erik came to visit his baby son, and if he caught Charles in the act of that outrageous theft, perhaps he would kill Charles in an instinctual response to the blasphemy – that very thought seemed strangely warm and endearing to Charles.

Was that supposed to mean that Charles was literally dying to die, even if a completely pointless and useless death? 

Or maybe it was just about Charles wanting to see Erik so badly, even an enraged Erik who hated him and wanted him gone.

Anyway, for the sake of this assignment Charles’ powers proved very useful. They allowed him to influence the reality perception of every man he had met along the way to the graveyard and (especially) back, so that their memory of a suspicious limping guy carrying an equally suspicious package under his armpit towards a parking spot would be erased.

Having completed his gruesome task, Charles returned to the ‘suburban little residence’. He was strangely calm, almost numb. It was as if he didn’t realize what was about to come within the next few hours. As if he was unaware that those were the last moments of his life, or, on the other hand, that really soon Erik and Raven would have their baby boy back, both getting finally the happiness they both deserved more than anyone after all those years of facing rejection, humiliation and plain misfortune.

Charles could thus feel no joy, no sorrow, not even fear. It was like he had burnt himself out over the last weeks and months by feeling too much and too strong.

And it was only at the bottom of his conscious self that something whispered of relief, because all of this was finally going to end, and apparently even end quite well.

**  
Time and again Necromancer would remind Charles that he still could pull back if he wanted to. He was being really persistent about that point, until he made Charles growl that if Necromancer gave him another ‘pull back’ comment, he would erase from Necromancer’s mind any and all happy memories he’d ever had.

Then Necromancer asked shyly if Charles had finished all the business he was supposed to have finished, and if he had said goodbye to all those he cared to say goodbye to. Charles snorted at that inquiry.

“True, you see, I’ve just remembered I’ve forgotten to water the backyard and feed the cat, maybe let’s put this thing off until some other time.” He was irritated at just how much Necromancer seemed to be set on driving Charles to second thoughts.

“I’m not going to ask then if there’s anyone who you’d like to have around on a moment like this. Nobody in their sane or half-sane mind would let you do any of this crazy shit”, Necromancer remarked cautiously. Charles laughed to himself.

“So you do happen to use your brain every once in a while, huh? You’re going to go far, I’m telling you.” With the scoff, Charles was trying to block out all his thoughts of who he wanted to be there for him ‘on a moment like this’, or if the prospect of passing away only in the presence of this individual called Necromancer, one possibly no less crazy than Charles himself, didn’t terrify him more than it should have.

**  
They had much more urgent matters to discuss. Most importantly, they had to agree on what to do with the baby once it was there.

For the few days before Charles had been systematically tracking Erik and Raven on Cerebro. Obviously, Erik was out of radar most of the time due to his wearing that telepathy-resistant helmet. And even when he was detectable, he was all over the place, constantly on the move. There was no point trying to track him down. 

On the other hand, Raven was being relatively sedentary these days. Where she resided was not that far from New York. That was a fairly optimistic observation to make. 

Necromancer had been obliged to take care of the revived baby and deliver him safely to his mother’s hands. That was one of the conditions Necromancer had to meet in order to become the happy owner of the many zeros on Charles’ paycheck. Charles had prepared it all: the clothes, the diapers, the food, the baby carrier. Necromancer had also got all the directions concerning the feeding and changing on a separate written list. Studying that very list had prompted Necromancer to share an enlightened conclusion that bringing the dead back to life was that much easier a task than looking after an infant. 

Charles did not disagree. He did, however, put an emphasis on how much he trusted Necromancer, as well as his own capacity for an afterlife revenge in case Necromancer, literally, failed to deliver. 

Disposing of Charles’ body after the procedure was another pressing matter to settle. Charles really wanted nobody to find out that he was dead. Therefore, informing anyone about what happened to him was not an option, much less counting on any grand burial ceremonies. By applying such precautions, Charles intended to avoid the outburst of grief and despair back at school, but most importantly, to prevent Erik and Raven from linking the miracle of getting their child back with Charles’ death.

Charles did it all for them to finally be happy, and not to shroud their happiness with a shadow of tragedy and guilt that would prevent them from loving their baby unquestionably and giving him all that he deserved. And what if either of them got the craziest idea to use Necromancer’s powers to revive Charles by sacrificing their own lives? Unfortunately, such scenario sounded very much like both of them, Erik especially.

And it was for that reason that another clause pertaining to the number of zeros on the paycheck obliged Necromancer to remain _incognito_. Nobody, absolutely nobody, and most importantly the baby’s parents, was to ever find out who Necromancer was and what was the role that he had played in all this.

Charles’ burial place of choice was, quite obviously, the solitary grove just beside the ‘suburban little residence’. He decided to help Necromancer dig a grave hole there beforehand, so that Necromancer wouldn’t have to worry about too many things to deal with at once when Charles was not around anymore. 

When Necromancer asked if he was supposed to mark that place in any way, Charles replied:

“As you wish. But please, no memorial tables”. 

**  
“It’s not like I want to make a fuss, but don’t you think that all newborns look the same?”, inquired Necromancer as he put on the tone of the head midwife in a metropolitan hospital. 

“Why, are you anxious that the mother won’t recognize the kid and will give you hell for trying to sell her a foundling?” Even though he realized how inappropriate that was, Charles burst out with a guffaw. 

Necromancer let out a small cough. “Well, she would be in the right to do that, wouldn’t she? It’s either this or believing she has gone mad.”

Charles put on a smug face and shrugged his shoulders. “If that’s the case, then I’m sorry to say she will be left with the latter option only.” Upon meeting Necromancer’s confused look, Charles added: “The baby has blue arms and legs”. 

**  
It wasn’t like Charles felt any need for bidding farewell to this world in any glamorous manner. He couldn’t care less for elegant dinner or posh ceremonies. He had, however, brought along the bottle of the best wine he had in his mini-bar collection. 

He was sure he must have kept that bottle for many years now, possibly since as long ago as the founding of the school. The bottle had been there waiting for the right occasion, until it came to this very point when there would be no other occasions but this one.

And so Charles and Necromancer were sitting there and tasting that wine. The refined taste of the liquor helped Charles numb out his own indifference.

“So, what was it actually like the previous time?”, asked Charles partly of sheer curiosity, and partly to keep his thoughts away from his own case. 

Even though Necromancer pulled a pensive face, it was not like he was going to make Charles ask twice.

“In the army, you know, there was this fellow I’d made friends with. They called him Mike. And truth be told, he was a total loser, the whole unit’s laughing stock. I’m telling you, no goddamn bullying wave ever missed him. I think he’d only survived the training camp because of his older brother. The man was our officer and everyone’s favorite guy. You know, the genuine tough guy, all the folks looked up to him and wanted to be like him. And then one fine day in Korea, that brother of Mike’s was killed in action. Mike broke down completely. Not just because his brother had died. I quote, now his life back at home was over and done. He’d be back and everyone would give him hell asking why it had to be his brother instead of him. His brother was an achiever, he was flawless, a mister perfect. And Mike was the underdog. Nobody at home would enjoy the fact that he was the one to come back. He thought they’d be mad at him that he wasn’t the one to die. So, Mike was in real pain and it was hard to look at. He kept repeating he would give everything just to turn back the time, to have his brother back. That he’d be happy to take his place.”

The impact of Necromancer’s words was staggering enough for Charles to choke on saliva.

“Are you trying to say that it was exactly what you had offered him? You basically told him that if he wanted to, you could help him take his brother’s place?”

Necromancer turned away his gaze, a look of hurt dignity painted all over his stern face. 

“I didn’t tell him he could _take his place_. I only told him I had those strange powers, which were a bit scary to be honest, but if he really meant it, I could check if they would work on his brother. You see, the trouble was I hadn’t ever tried it on anything other than some weed in the field, so I wasn’t sure myself how things worked. I did warn Mike that I couldn’t tell what to expect. I did tell him that something bad might happen to him. I…” He broke off. For a moment, his throat was blocked with a clot of anguish and shame.

Quietly surprised, Charles raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry”, was all he had to say. And that was about as honest a reply as you could get.

It looked like the only time when Necromancer dared to used his powers on a human being was also the time when he inadvertently killed his own friend. Charles thought that every mutant who was so convinced his powers were a curse should get to know that story. 

**  
“So, are you absolutely sure you don’t want anyone beside you right now?”

Charles received Necromancer’s words of concern with an ironic half-smile.

“Well, you know, now that you’re asking, I think I’ve just changed my mind. Let’s put the whole thing off for an indefinite period and wait until all my loving significant others make it to my deathbed.” He felt a strong urge to keep it cynical. Cynicism acted like a sponge that absorbed the fear he experienced before the inevitability of the next step.

Necromancer, however, couldn’t get discouraged that easily.

“I do think that at least on a moment like this people really shouldn’t be alone.” He paused and took some time to look Charles straight into the sapphire blue void of his eyes, before he emphasized: “If you really need to run away from your close ones to come through with this decision, then it means that you seriously need to think it all over again.”

“I don’t have any goddamn close ones!”, retorted Charles with a hostility that surprised even himself. Nothing else could provide as solid a testimony to how blatant a lie Charles’ words were than this particular defensive aggression.

Giving up, Necromancer gave a tired nod.

“Well, at least I hope they appreciate you’ve been there in their lives.”

“I think you do know the answer, don’t you.” Again, Charles was taken aback at how weak and shaky his own voice was, full of unspoken resentment and accusations he had been repressing for so long. 

**  
Standing in front of the mirror, Charles was busy with his final style preparations for the big moment. Time and again he would comb his hair, then he would part it, and then he would change his mind about the side of the part. As for his outfit, he had picked it much earlier, giving significant amount of consideration to its every detail.

He wasn’t quite sure whatever he had been doing it all for. Still, he felt that vague need to express it with his attire, hairstyle, elegance and an overall celebratory manner that something exceptional was about to happen, an experience which would be – to say it with a shade of black humor – one of the kind. 

Or maybe he wanted to persuade at least himself that his death was not such a minor event, not something to be ignored so easily. Maybe he wanted to believe that a decent from was the least it deserved. 

Lurking behind Charles’ back, Necromancer made an innocent remark: “It looks like those people really matter to you a lot.”

When he did, Charles gave him such look that it amazed Necromancer it wasn’t him to breathe his last before he could help Charles do the same.

On the other hand, Charles was even more amazed to find himself replying to Necromancer casually and revealing quite unnecessary details, instead of simply remaining silent or telling Necromancer to go to hell in any available way.

“That’s my sister. _And_ my best friend.”

Necromancer nodded with a wisecrack-wannabe face.

“True. Possessive brothers don't forgive even their best pals, or especially their best pals.”

Charles chuckled softly at that line. He couldn’t find it in himself to correct or explain anything.

**  
As their deal would have it, it was Necromancer who took charge of all the technical preparations leading to the procedure. In the meantime, all that Charles was supposed to do was lie on the sofa and wait until everything was ready. (And also, as Necromancer would put it, to make the ultimate decision. Naturally, Charles wouldn’t believe it if Necromancer was seriously asking him about that, not at this point of their endeavor. Even Necromancer can’t have been stupid enough to think that Charles could still step back, right?) 

Charles lay on the side and, cuddling his cheek against the pillow, he closed his eyes. He tried as he might to calm his mind and not to think of anything, but it didn’t work. His body sensed the impending danger impeccably and refused to let Charles forget about it. 

His heart was pumping until he could feel it smash against his temples. Cold sweat was streaming down his hands. His squeezed throat resembled a desert. 

His thoughts strolled down the horizon of memories in a search for a vision that could soothe him. He was quite surprised on the one hand – and not at all on the other – when he had caught himself trying to recreate inside his mind what their last time had been like.

How had Erik been back then? What had his warmth tasted like? How had the touch of his rough, firm hands sunk all the way into Charles and then inside out? Charles could remember now none of these, because at the time he’d had no idea it would be their last. Erik had always appeared out of the blue. He’d spend some time by Charles’ side – a dozen of minutes, a few hours, or the whole night through – and then he’d be gone without even a goodbye. But he’d always come back. 

And Charles had got used to that odd, spasmodic rhythm of that thing they shared, that thing which Charles’ vanity caused him to call their love. He had never questioned it. It had never occurred to him that the next time might be their last.

What had Erik been like on that night? What mood had he been in? Had he been angry, cold, distant? Had he been translating all his constant rage and frustration at the world of humans and uncooperative mutants into Charles and his body? 

Or had it been the reverse? Maybe it had been one of Erik’s good days. On such days everything would work out fine for him, until it would make even him feel the grains of hope for the better future sprouting shyly in the deepest corners of his bruised soul. Those would be the times when the kind of future which that brave, exceptional man truly deserved had genuinely seemed within an arm’s reach. Perhaps it had been one of such times, and Erik had been warm and tender. Maybe he had been joking and laughing, and maybe he had clung to Charles with that trust that would always almost move Charles to tears, because in this whole wide world Erik’s trust was the rarest and most precious thing that could ever be, more precious than any and all treasures.

Perhaps Erik had been smiling with that honest, irresistible smile of his. Perhaps when Charles had seen his own reflection in Erik’s cloudless jade eyes, he had been sure where he belonged and where he was heading for like never before.

The point was that now there was no way for Charles to find out about that. He simply didn’t remember that night. He didn’t remember, so he had no memory to come back to right now. No memory to give him courage on that moment of terror and trial. Being aware of all that brought him pain so unbearable Charles was almost sure dying would be a pleasure compared to this.

**  
At one point, instead of the already classic ‘are you sure?’ line, Necromancer said something that upset Charles completely unnecessarily.

“Whatever happened, remember that you’re not the one to blame.”

Charles suddenly sprung up and sat up on the sofa, like Necromancer’s words had been a needle drilled right into his spine. He sent Necromancer the predatory look of an animal ready to attack. 

Like a response to a finger stuck straight into a festering wound, Charles’ form was oozing with hostility. The veins on his clenched fists were swollen. His lips were bitten hard. His eyebrows were tightly knitted. 

Scared to the bones, Necromancer took one step back. He raised his arms in a placating gesture.

“It’s okay, alright? It’s okay, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to say… You know how it is, a baby died, such an unthinkable tragedy, it’s no wonder if everyone around is simply blaming themselves. It’s like, everyone is wondering what they could have done or what they shouldn’t have done to prevent it from happening. Essentially everyone wants to turn back the time, don’t they? What I mean is that everyone feels the same way as you do. There’s no reason for you to take all the heat. No reason for you alone to sacrifice like that, you see?”

The tension had passed the critical point. It flowed out of Charles’ body like the air from a pierced balloon. He waved his hand in an ‘I give up’ gesture and fell flat back on the sofa.

“Shut up. You don’t know anything. Anything at all”, he hissed angrily, but he targeted his words to his own self rather than to Necromancer; arguably, he even preferred for Necromancer not to listen and not to demand any expanding on the topic.

For Charles didn’t feel like explaining anything, much less explaining himself – and neither had he any intention to. He didn’t want to spell out to anyone those most shameful, most wretched thoughts to have ever tarnished his conscience. Not even to himself, even though that was precisely what he had just begun to do. 

How could he ever possibly excuse himself for not wanting an innocent child, a pure little angel to be born, his only reason being his inability to accept the fact that the child’s parents – the man he loved and the woman he had sworn to protect – were happy together, as in the happiest people under the sun, and for once not lonely in their lives? 

That ill will could not be forgiven. Atonement was the best he could expect. And that was precisely what Charles had been looking for at Necromancer’s: atonement. Not understanding. And not forgiveness. 

**  
Necromancer folded up Charles’ sleeve, as if he wanted to take a blood sample or inject an intravenous drip. Upon realizing how damp Charles’ hands were, he gave him a serious look. 

Charles, however, only shrugged his shoulders. His feverishly glistening eyes seemed to say: _Let’s not be bothered with the little things, shall we? Let’s get it over and done_.

“Just so you know, doc… I really feel sorry for the poor little kiddo, of course I do. I wish it hadn’t happened to him. Anyone would. But whatever you think, I’m no fool. And I mean what I say when I tell you your life isn’t worth any less than his, doc.”

Charles really wanted to believe he didn’t care at all about such reassurances and lines. He wanted to believe his decision had nothing to do with what he imagined little Jakob’s parents would have to say if faced with a choice of ‘it’s either Jakob or Charles’. Because if it had, it would be exactly the case of him trying to play a rival to that poor baby, putting the stake of his own happiness and any chances for it against the baby’s very existence. You didn’t get any more selfish and cruel than that, did you?

And yet, Necromancer’s words had embarrassingly moistened the corners of Charles’ eyes.

In the back of his mind there whispered an echo of that conversation he’d had with Erik after Jakob’s funeral at the Xavier residence. Sedated with tranquilizers washed down with whisky, Raven was sleeping in the room that had served for the time being as her and Erik’s bedroom, which meant that Charles and Erik had a moment for a face-to-face talk.

Charles took that moment to apologize to Erik for letting both him and Raven down. Then he used those lines that had usually worked so well with Charles’ students to reassure Erik that things were going to work out fine, only he and Raven needed not to lose hope, as it was hope that would give them the strength to carry on.

Battered with the chronic inner pain that had been lasting for days now, Erik didn’t beat around the bush.

“I don’t want an apology, and I don’t want hope.” His tone was brash and bitter, while his eyes proved his mind had escaped into some other world. A world without Charles, his apologies, and his hope.

“Oh…” Charles made a very silly face, as if he had really expected at least tears overcome with emotion and gratitude on Erik’s part. Subsequently, he had somehow found it in himself to ask the only remaining question that under the circumstances made any sense to him. “What do you want, then…?”

“I want my child back.” Erik uttered that answer with no hesitation. It was so simple So obvious. And so devoid of any hope that Charles was truly unable to make any sense of it. Maybe that was what made him act like a complete madman right now.

 _May you finally find your happiness, my dearest friend._ Charles meant for that thought to be resounding full of a hope reborn. Nevertheless, against his own intentions, it only made two hot, narrow streams rush silently from beneath his closed eyelids and down his sunken cheeks. 

At that moment, Necromancer had already been holding Charles’ hand. He did that solely because he had to be touching Charles during the procedure, and for that purpose the hand was the most convenient part to hold. Still, Charles spontaneously clutched his fingers upon Necromancer’s hand, in a search for warmth and encouragement that only understanding and compassion from another human being could give. 

Charles was aware of the fact that acting like that, he didn’t make Necromancer’s job any easier. Then, apparently that was simply the way people were. If you rose above your own limits and invested all your altruism into one thing, you were only left with about as much strength as to become a total jerk to the rest of the world.

**  
For a while Charles’ heart continued to thump like he had overdosed party speed. His body was shuddering out of control, like it was fighting a wave of fever. 

Soon enough, however, he was overcome with drowsiness. He wasn’t quite sure yet if he was already experiencing the effects of Necromancer’s powers, but if that was all dying was about, it sure didn’t seem quite bad.

Suddenly he saw Erik.

He had no idea where he’d come from: whether it was Charles’ dream, or a conscious fantasy, or some terminal delusion. Not that it mattered. Erik was about the most beautiful picture to see at such a moment, or at any moment for that matter.

The Erik Charles was seeing was completely different from the Erik Charles remembered. On the other hand, he was exactly the way Charles had always wanted to remember him. 

Relaxed. Cheerful. At peace with the world and with himself.

Happy.

“Charles, my friend… Just what on earth have you done?” As Erik jokingly scolded him, Charles experienced a shiver that rivaled static. He didn’t expect to ever hear Erik call him his friend again.

“Erik…? Are you still angry with me?” That question was nothing less than coy, perhaps even a little dishonest. After all, Charles knew Erik very well and he knew that an angry Erik looked and acted differently. Nevertheless, he had to hear it. He wanted Erik to say it out loud. 

And he did get what he wanted. That was what the advantage of dreams over reality was about, and the sheer beauty of them, too.

“No, Charles. It’s alright. Now we can start again.” He gave Charles a slightly disbelieving smile and he shook his head, actually peeking at Charles with a bit of admiration. “I must admit I underestimated you, my friend. I never thought anything like that would be possible. I couldn’t believe anyone in the world could bring him back to us. Not even you.”

Charles scratched his temple, faking modesty, but he soon replaced that with a proud smile. For those few moments, all the sorrow and all the pain that had brought them there ceased to be. 

Once again they were those two young men full of faith in themselves who would discover each other and each other’s possibilities like the leaves of a fascinating book, and who would unfailingly bring out the best from one another.

Where and how had Charles got so lost to have forfeited it all…?

A weak sound of a baby crying reached Charles’ ears, as if from behind a wall. When he looked around, he saw Raven emerging from behind Erik’s back. 

She, too, was completely different than when Charles had seen her for the last time. Once again she was that smiling, spirited, confident young woman who looked straight ahead without any trace of venom and grudge. 

She was holding Jakob in her arms. The baby was flapping his tiny blue arms and legs all over the place like he had never had the chance to do when he was still alive. Cuddling him close with all the nurturing pride of a young mother, Raven talked to Charles in a tone resembling that of Erik’s. 

“It’s alright now, Charles. I forgive you. You have proved that there’s more to you than just empty words. Thanks to you, from now on the three of us will always be happy. We won’t forget it. And we won’t forget you.”

 _But how come? You don’t even know it was me_ – an anxious thought flashed through Charles’ head. He dismissed it, however, as soon as it had appeared. It really wasn’t the best moment for despondency or worry.

“Raven, my dear, don’t you know that you deserve the best?” Charles directed a rather telling gaze onto Erik, before he moved it to their beautiful baby boy, so mutant and so proud. “I have never given up on you. I have never stopped rooting for you. I’m sorry that I didn’t always know how to show it to you. I’m sorry that I didn’t always understand. I’m sorry I wasn’t always there for you. I’m sorry I didn’t always put you first. I’m sorry, Raven.”

Carried away by the emotion, he gradually amplified his voice. Yet, he gave in when he realized Raven couldn’t hear him, or wasn’t listening to him anymore. She was too overwhelmed holding her son.

Erik put an arm around them, around that wonderful woman and that lovely child. In his eyes shone the fulfillment Charles had never seen there before. Erik finally had that family he had always dreamt of. There was no doubt he would make an awesome husband and father. All that it took to prove it was for life to stop throwing rocks against him and Raven. 

Holding each other in a hopeful embrace, Raven and Erik began to walk towards the horizon, towards their own little brave new world. Realizing that this was really about it, that it had been all there had been to their last goodbye, Charles felt oddly empty. 

Fortunately for him, he was also gradually getting closer to the state when he couldn’t possibly feel too much of anything.

His consciousness resembled a very tense string about to break at any moment now. He could feel no pain, and he could feel no fear. Just like Erik and Raven had said, it was alright now. 

Suddenly he remembered different words by Erik.

_Now we can start again._

Forgive me, my friend. Now your ‘we’ does not include me anymore.

Or was it ever even supposed to include me? 

Maybe I never really belonged there in first place.

Maybe it simply wasn’t meant to be.


End file.
